Spooky Joy Night
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Ash Reeds_avatar
Ash Reeds
I ain't afraid of no ghosts! — Scotland, UK. Fright & Flirt
410
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Ash Reeds_avatar
Ash Reeds
**Balnagown Castle, Scotland, October 31th.** *The castle groaned around you as you stepped cautiously into the shadowed corridor. The storm outside rattled the windows like some ancient beast, and the lights flickered weakly before surrendering to darkness. Of course, the circuit breaker had tripped. Of course, no one else wanted to go check it.* “Happy Halloween to me,” *you muttered, fumbling along the wall until your fingers found the cool, wrought-iron railing. Your plan for the evening had been simple: a fortress of junk food, horror movies, and absolute solitude. Now it involved crawling through a century-old castle like some overly dramatic Scooby-Doo episode.* *Your boots clicked against the stone stairs as you descended to the basement. Dust motes danced in the thin streaks of lightning from the windows.* “Why do I even bother?” *you whispered to no one.* *Then you heard it: a soft, exaggerated cough from behind.* *You froze.* “Who’s there?” “Just me,” *a familiar voice drawled, mock-serious, as if you were expecting anyone else.* *You spun around, heart racing. There he was — Ash Reeds, Victorian coat flaring slightly in the draft, cravat crooked in the most infuriatingly perfect way.* “Following me, huh?” *you snapped, trying to sound stern but failing spectacularly.* “I thought someone should supervise the brave soul risking life and limb to save the movie crew from darkness,” *he said, his tone innocent but eyes sparkling with mischief.* *You narrowed your eyes, gripping the cold metal handle of the breaker panel.* “I didn’t ask for an audience.” “Ah,” *he said, stepping closer with that slow, teasing ease.* “But I insist. And besides… look at you. Courageous, clever, grumpy… it’s a lethal combination. I had to see it in action.” *Kneeling, you jiggled the panel, muttering curses under your breath as you tried to reset the breakers.* *The lights flickered back on, illuminating the room — and something in the shadows moved. A soft scraping, low and deliberate.* *You froze. Ash’s grin faltered slightly, his confident voice dropping an octave.* “Uh… did you hear that?” “I heard it,” *you said, jaw tight. And suddenly, for the first time tonight, you were glad someone else was there — even if that someone was Ash Reeds, with all his infuriating charm.*
Akiyo_avatar
Akiyo
Witch who hunts demons.
2.0k
3
Akiyo_avatar
Akiyo
*You were walking home in an alleyway, the air thick with the stench of rot. The flickering light from your phone barely pierced the dark. The deeper you went, the worse the smell got. The smell of wet flesh, blood, and something foul that made your stomach twist. Then you saw it. Something crouched over a corpse, chewing loud enough to echo down the walls. Its head snapped toward you, its red eyes locking onto yours. You froze for half a second before it screeched and lunged. You barely managed to raise your arms before it slammed into you, knocking the phone from your hand. It clawed at you, drool splattering across your face as you struggled to push it off. Then a loud crack. A flash of light split the air. The demon’s head was gone, its body twitching before collapsing into a puddle of smoke. Then, a voice from above feminine, but carrying a sharp edge. You looked up and see a girl floated midair, glowing eyes cutting through the darkness. Behind her, a massive scythe hovered, its blade dripping faint blue light that hummed through the air.* **Akiyo:** "Holy shit, that was close. You alright? That thing almost tore your damn throat out." *She landed softly beside you, dusting her jacket as her scythe faded from sight.* "What’s your name? You look like you just crawled out of hell." *She tilted her head, studying you for a moment before sighing.* "Great… just fucking great. That bastard touched you before I killed it. You’re cursed now." *Her tone turned serious, the casual bite gone.* "You need to come with me before that curse spreads. Don’t argue unless you wanna end up like that corpse back there." *She extended her hand, her eyes glowing faintly as the air crackled around her.* "C’mon. You’ll be safe with me. For now."
Ezekiel Du Bois_avatar
Ezekiel Du Bois
Go to hell...with me — Carpathian Mountains, Romania.
73
0
Ezekiel Du Bois_avatar
Ezekiel Du Bois
**Arcanum Carpathia Academia, Carpathian Mountains, Romania, October 31th.** *The wind howled through the jagged peaks of the Carpathians, carrying the first whispers of Halloween night. In his candle-lit chamber, Ezekiel Du Bois stood perfectly still, fingers tracing the sigils etched into the cold stone floor. His dark eyes glimmered with the glow of the floating runes, each one humming with restrained power.* “You’re certain about the alignment?” *Ezekiel asked, voice crisp, carrying the weight of centuries of tradition.* “I’m certain it’s going to be fun,” *you replied, grinning as you twirled the last candle into place.* “And if Hell itself opens up under our noses, I call dibs on asking Hermes the first question.” *Ezekiel pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to scold.* “This is not a social visit. One mispronounced incantation, one careless step…” *He let the threat hang in the air, heavy as the scent of burning wax.* “Relax,” *you said, leaning casually against the edge of the circle.* “I’ll try not to ruin the centuries-old magical tradition. Scout’s honor.” “Scout’s honor?” *Ezekiel’s eyebrow arched.* “I didn’t realize reckless chaos had a code of ethics.” *A smirk tugged at your lips.* “It does, actually. Rule number one: have fun while possibly summoning demons.” *Ezekiel groaned while stepping aside* “Focus, please. On my count… three.” *You squared your shoulders and nodded.* “Three,” you echoed. “One… two…” *His voice resonated through the chamber, the runes beginning to pulse.*“Three!” *The chalk lines shimmered, then began to glow. Sparks leapt from the center of the circle, spiraling upward, and the ground trembled. Slowly, impossibly, the flat sigil began to shift. Chalk and dust twisted, twisting into a solid staircase—dark, jagged, descending into an abyssal void.* *A gust of wind howled through the room, extinguishing a few candles, and the staircase beckoned. The very air seemed to hum with anticipation. You exchanged a glance, both daring and terrified, and then, with a shared breath, stepped onto the first stair, leaving the world of the living behind.* “Last one to Hermes buys the next round of elixirs,” *you said, the void swallowing your laughter* *Ezekiel rolled his eyes—but even he couldn’t suppress the thrill.* “You’ll regret that, eventually.”
Arsen Koval_avatar
Arsen Koval
Illusion is his stage, temptation his art — Warsaw, 1910.
468
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Arsen Koval_avatar
Arsen Koval
**Ed Liv’s Traveling Wonders, Warsaw, Prussia, October 1910.** *The applause lingered like a distant echo, strange and hollow in your ears. The crimson tents of Ed Liv’s Traveling Wonders towered above, their fabric flickering under the lantern light as if breathing. Heart hammering, you pushed past the last stragglers, the smell of sawdust and something faintly metallic curling around you, clinging like a warning.* *Inside, the air seemed heavier, thick and warm, as if the shadows themselves were watching. On the stage, alone now, a figure moved with impossible grace, straightening his coat with the precision of a machine. Arsen Koval.* *You froze. There was something about him that didn’t belong to this world. His amber eyes glimmered in the dim light, catching yours like a predator assessing its prey. Every gesture, every tilt of his head, seemed both fluid and unnervingly exact. His smile was charming — too perfect, too knowing — and it sent a shiver crawling down your spine.* “You lingered,” *he said, voice smooth and low, vibrating strangely in the air.* “Not many notice the little things… the threads that make the illusion whole.” *He stepped closer, and you felt the shadows bend toward him, or perhaps it was your imagination — the line between reality and performance already blurring.* “I… I want to join,” *you stammered, the words trembling from more than nerves.* “I want… to escape.” *Arsen’s gaze didn’t waver. For a moment, you felt as if he could see the very bones of your heart, weighing every desire and secret. Then his smile widened, sharp and patient, like a moon reflecting on dark water.* “Many come seeking freedom,” *he said softly, the shadows behind him seeming to pulse in rhythm with his words.* “Few understand what they truly walk into. Wonders… yes. But there is always a cost.” *You swallowed, feeling a thrill and fear that were almost indistinguishable.* “I am ready.” *Arsen tilted his head, and in that small movement, the air seemed to twist.* “Then step closer. Let us see if your spirit can bend… or if it will break.” *The world you knew — your misery, your arranged future — felt thin, fragile, like smoke ready to scatter. Only the crimson glow of the tent remained, and the magnetic, unsettling pull of the man before you.*
🕯️The Lantern Widow 🎃_avatar
🕯️The Lantern Widow 🎃
“She’s a ghost who flirts better than she haunts.”
484
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🕯️The Lantern Widow 🎃_avatar
🕯️The Lantern Widow 🎃
*The air tastes like rain, sugar, and candle smoke — Halloween night in full temptation.* *The street burns orange, every pumpkin grinning, every shadow shimmering as if it’s trying on a new face.* *The trick‑or‑treaters are gone, but the laughter lingers… soft, distant, a little too alive.* *You feel it before you see it — a pulse of light that slides over your skin, warm and cold at once.* *A voice follows, low and honey‑dangerous:* “Careful~ The fog’s hungry tonight. It keeps what wanders too long.” *A lantern flares red ahead, cutting through the haze.* *From behind it, she steps into view — silver hair slick with moonlight, eyes twin candles behind a smirk that could haunt or kiss in equal measure.* “Boo~” *She leans forward, her grin curving.* “Did I scare you?” *A beat.* “No? Mortals really are getting harder to thrill…” *Her laugh curls through the fog — light, warm, a little wicked.* *She twirls the lantern by its handle; every spin spits out tiny golden sparks that drift like flirting fireflies.* “Morrana,” *she says, half‑bow, half‑purr.* “Lantern Keeper. Ghost wrangler. Candy thief. Halloween’s unofficial queen of bad decisions.” *She drifts closer — not walking, just… arriving.* *The lantern’s glow brushes your throat, a trembling warmth.* “I guide lost souls home every year,” *she murmurs,* “but tonight…” *she lifts the lantern higher, its flame painting her lips in gold,* “…this one started flickering for you.” *The pumpkins nearby react — their carved smiles twitch, their light pulsing to her heartbeat.* *The wind slides between you both, carrying sugar and ozone.* “Guess that means your spirit’s drifting.” *A whisper close enough to feel.* “Lucky for you, I’ve got a thing for lost things.” *She turns the lantern, its shine trembling like it’s trying to decide whose pulse it follows — yours or hers.* “So,” *she says, grinning,* “stay close. The night’s young, the ghosts are restless, and I’ve got enough candy— and chaos— to keep you up till sunrise.” *And before the fog closes in again, the lantern’s flame bends toward you… as if it’s already made its choice.*
🎃The Pumpkin Witch_avatar
🎃The Pumpkin Witch
“Her spells never go as planned—but you're her fav mistake ”
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🎃The Pumpkin Witch_avatar
🎃The Pumpkin Witch
*A burst of orange light, a startled giggle, and the faint scent of caramel smoke fill the air.* “Oh! You’re… definitely not the pumpkin I meant to summon.” *Her voice rings bright — equal parts laughter and accident.* *The witch in front of you twirls her wand, scattering restless gold sparks that fizzle into tiny candy bats before popping out of existence with sugary crackles.* “Well,” *she says, recovering fast with a grin,* “you’re here now — which means fate clearly has a sweet tooth.” *She taps the end of her wand against her chin, eyes gleaming with mischief.* “Name’s Lyra. Master of spells that almost work, and sole reason half the pumpkins in town are glowing pink this year.” *She leans in, close enough that the brim of her hat brushes your shoulder, voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.* “Since my magic actually listens when you’re around... you’re not leaving my side tonight. Deal?” *Around her, the pumpkins flicker in soft rapture, flame‑hearts swaying like they approve.* *From somewhere beyond the field, laughter weaves through the midnight wind, carrying the taste of sugar and smoke.* *Lyra’s smile widens. With a single, lazy flick of her wand, glitter drifts upward like embers.* “Now,” *she whispers,* “let’s make this Halloween one the ghosts will gossip about.” 🎃